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Sweet Revenge

Sweet Revenge

Titel: Sweet Revenge Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Nora Roberts
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will wish to rest until this evening. A servant will show you the way.”
    Philip stood where he was as Abdu left him. He might have laughed, but he doubted Adrianne would find the news amusing.
    The evening was to be a mixture of the old ways and the new. Adrianne bound her hair but ignored the veil. She dressed modestly, adhering to
aurat
, things that cannot be shown, by choosing a gown with long sleeves and skirt and a high neck. But the label was Saint Laurent. Word had spread through the women’s quarters that Philip would be introduced. That alone told her that he had pulled it off. Now that Philip and the engagement had been accepted, the first stage of the plan was behind her.
    It was too late to turn back. It had always been too late.
    The diamond on her finger winked in the mirror as sheconcealed the bruise on her cheek with makeup. Symbols, she thought, of the two men who had changed her life.
    Stepping back, she took a last inventory. She’d chosen black deliberately, knowing the other women would be arrayed in peacock colors. In black she would appear only more modest and obedient. Reluctantly, she fastened the amethyst around her neck. Abdu would expect it. Until she left Jaquir she intended to go on giving him what he expected.
    Philip had been right about one thing. When she allowed her emotions to surface, she became reckless. However true her words to Abdu had been that afternoon, they had been rashly said. She had the bruise to remind her that he was not now, nor had he ever been, a man to listen to a woman’s heart.
    She touched a finger to it again. She wasn’t angry about the blow, or even resentful. The pain had been brief, and the mark itself served to remind her that no matter how many new buildings, new roads, new freedoms existed in Jaquir, men still ruled however they saw fit. She was less of a daughter to Abdu than she was a thing to be married off and shuttled out of the country, where whatever mistakes she made wouldn’t reflect on his honor.
    She wasn’t sorry for that, but she was sorry that she had harbored a place in her heart for the hope that there might have been love and regret and reunion.
    Hope was dead. Adrianne turned at the knock on the door. Now there was only purpose.
    “Yellah”
Yasmin, dressed in bright striped satin, grabbed her hand. “Come on. Hurry,” she repeated in English. “My father has sent for us. Why do you wear black when red would be more flattering?” Even as Adrianne’s lips twitched, Yasmin was pulling her toward the other women.
    The men were already in the salon. Abdu, three of his brothers, his two sons, a smattering of cousins. Adrianne flicked a glance at the boy who was her younger brother. He’d only be fourteen, but he was already ranged with the men. In a matter of seconds they studied one another. She saw a mirror of the curiosity she was feeling, the same grudging kinship. This time she didn’t try to prevent the smile, and was rewarded by the brief curving of his lips. In his smile she saw her grandmother.
    Then there was Philip, looking wonderfully, coolly European. Like an oasis, she thought, refreshing and comforting. She wanted to reach out, if only for a moment, and link hands. Make a connection. Instead, she kept her hands folded in front of her.
    He wanted five minutes alone with her. There had been no opportunity for a single word since they’d stepped off the jet. He’d have preferred to tell Adrianne about the monkey wrench Abdu had tossed in the works. Five minutes, he thought, fretting against the customs that were both cover and restraint. There was a volcano in her. He’d seen it flare briefly in her eyes that afternoon. There was no telling if Abdu’s announcement would cause it to erupt.
    One by one, with a formality suited to Buckingham Palace, the women were introduced to him. In their opulent party wear they were a rainbow of dark women with dark eyes and soft voices. Some gowns were elegant, some gaudy, some chic, some foolish, but the women were all identical in attitude. Heads were lowered, eyes downcast, pretty ringed hands were folded at the ends of concealing sleeves.
    He watched Adrianne step forward, at her father’s gesture, to greet her brothers. Fahid kissed her cheeks, then gave her arms a quick squeeze. “I’m happy for you, Adrianne. Welcome home.”
    He meant it, she realized. While it was impossible for Jaquir to be home she felt a comfort.
I love Adrianne.
He had often said it to

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